


Cupid Couture

by firstbreaths



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:06:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstbreaths/pseuds/firstbreaths
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Rory got him for me, because he’s the best boyfriend ever<i>, and he’s supposed to be like my lucky charm because Rory’s a little Irish cutie, but Earl can’t stay at home alone all day because he pees on the carpet, and Daddy imported those rugs from France. You’re home during the day, and Santana says you’re probably just lying around getting life advice from Dr. Phil.”</i> Or: Sugar tries to get Blaine to dog-sit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cupid Couture

A knock on the door startles Blaine from his thoughts, and he stumbles downstairs to answer it, one hand on the banister in case he stumbles a little. He’s still not used to not being able to see properly, doesn’t _want_ to be because that would mean accepting this, he’s played passive aggressive too many times for too long. Blaine thinks it might be better if Kurt visited, or Rachel, or even Santana with her back issues of _Cosmo_ sand her invitations to have a little ‘chat’, but he gets it, they’re all busy preparing for _Valentine’s Day._

If he stumbles and lands a little harder on the bottom step than he intends to, the hat stand near the door wobbling a little, well. It’s not like his parents are here to actually notice.

Blaine falls slightly forward again when he answers the door, because he’d been expecting a mail delivery, or a door to door salesman – and he’d had a sarcastic retort about being into the whole sailor thing that would make her jaw drop if Santana had stopped by to call him Horatio Nelson again – but he’s definitely not expecting Sugar Motta, pushing a puppy into his face.

His first reaction is that _it’s actually kind of cute._ His second: _what are you doing here?_

“How do you even know where I live?” Blaine asks finally, blinking at her. He realises, a little belatedly, that it probably looks more like a wink with his eye patch on, and he hopes Sugar doesn’t read into it. “Kurt would never tell you under fear that you might let me inject a little more pizzazz into my bowtie collection.”

“Don’t be silly,” Sugar laughs, flipping a hand in his direction. The bangles on her arm rattle loudly, and the puppy jerks its head up suddenly, blinking. Blaine resists the urge to reach out and pat it. “My daddy owns the company who publishes the phonebooks and besides, the receptionist who works there? Totally can’t get enough of my sweet sugar.”

“You need to look after Earl for me,” she says, and the puppy’s clawing at his sweater a little, so Blaine takes it from Sugar, quickly beckoning her inside before placing it gently on the tiles, shutting the door so it can’t escape. “Rory got him for me, because he’s the best boyfriend _ever,_ and he’s supposed to be like my lucky charm because Rory’s a little Irish cutie, but Earl can’t stay at home alone all day because he pees on the carpet, and Daddy imported those rugs from France. You’re home during the day, and Santana says you’re probably just lying around getting life advice from Dr. Phil.”

Blaine’s grown to love Santana, over the past few weeks, but he doubts she would have put it as nicely as that.

Sugar glances at Blaine, and then at Earl, eyes wide and imploring, and Blaine wonders what his father would say if he saw Blaine inviting in a girl decked head to toe in Juicy Couture. If it didn’t hit a little too close to home, right now, there’s _so_ many jokes he could make about her bright purple minx coat blinding him.

He’s starting to feel a little dizzy, and he doubts it’s from the painkillers or the lack of depth perception.

“Earl?” Blaine asks, slowly bending down to pick the puppy up and heading slowly back upstairs towards his bedroom, hoping Sugar will get the hint and follow; he can’t have it peeing here, hours before his parents come home. Earl is surprisingly soft and warm in his arms, nuzzling gently at his neck as he buries his tiny face in Blaine’s sweater. He’s not _nearly_ stupid enough to compare Kurt to a dog, but after days of quick phone calls from his boyfriend between practicing his duet with Tina and letting Blaine sleep, it’s _nice,_ having that sudden feeling of being wanted and _needed_ as the puppy falls asleep in his arms. Apparently, Valentine’s Days are determined to forever suck, for him and Kurt. “What made you call him that?”

“I wanted to name him Duke, because he’s totally going to be royalty once Daddy orders me the doggy cape and crown online, but Rory and I were reading dog books at lunch and _everyone_ names their dog that. He’s totally an original, like me.”

“Of course,” Blaine says, because he’s pretty sure this puppy looks like every single other one he’s seen star in commercials designed to tug at his heartstrings, but he doesn’t want to hurt its feelings, and it’s still ridiculously _cute._  None of which means he has the first idea of how to take care of it. Or that he he’d want – who is he kidding, he has another week before the doctors will let him go back to school and it might not be Dr. Phil, but he’s pretty sure he knows more about the books in Oprah’s book club than she does. “So… are you and Rory dating now?”

Sugar nods emphatically as she reaches the top of the stairs, turning to face him. Blaine nods wordlessly at his door, unable to push it thanks to the puppy curled up tightly in his arms, and _oh shit._ He’s been planning a Valentine’s surprise for Kurt, deciding to surprise him at Sugar’s Breadstix party just in time to request to sing something to him (he’s thinking “For Your Entertainment”), but he’ll still be wearing an eye patch, and he’d decided to jazz it up a little. Apparently hearts aren’t the easiest shapes in the world to cut out when you’ve only got sight in one eye, and there’s discarded fabric littering his room as a result.

She doesn’t even notice though, just throws herself down on his bed, staring around as she says, “I feel so _bad_ for Rory, because he has to go back to Ireland at the end of the year, and I figure if we’re dating, maybe my daddy can sponsor him or something.” Sugar bounces up and down a little as she claps, and the way the pom poms dangling from the hood of her jacket bounce is mesmerising. Blaine’s never met someone quite so deluded, and he used to room with Jeff, who was convinced that Dalton’s corridors were haunted. “Besides, Artie’s cute and all, but he totally made fun of me when I sung ‘Hey Big Spender’ for the glee club, like he wasn’t totally jealous that I’m better than him. I can’t be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t respect my talent.”

It might just be from the way the combination of her voice and the painkillers are making his head spin, but Blaine’s almost convinced he sees her lower lip quiver.

He sinks into the chair at his desk, hastily kicking the worst of mess underneath before setting the puppy down. It yaps once or twice, before settling down against his feet and falling back to sleep, its chest rising and falling with every breath. Blaine will admit it, it’s _adorable,_ but he’s still not sure what Sugar wants from him. There’s only so long he can keep it from his parents without raising suspicion; his sweater already smells like dog.

“I don’t know,” Blaine says, “Everyone really liked the Troubletones’ performance at Sectionals. And I bet Rory would like it if you dedicated a song to him, at the Sugar Shack.” Surely her singing can’t be as bad as everyone claims it is; he missed her first and only performance. “I’ve got a few ideas, if you want some help.”

Earl stirs, and Blaine nudges gently at him with his foot, knowing that he’ll feel dizzy if he bends over too much to pat him. It’s one of the more surreal experiences of his life, sitting in his bedroom with Sugar Motta in all her technicolour glory, and he got blinded by high fructose corn syrup and rock salt three weeks ago.

“You? Help me?” Sugar shrieks, nearly falling off his bed. “You’re cute, Blaine Anderson,” and she’s actually getting off the bed, moving towards him, and he squints at her through his good eye as she adds, “and you’d make great arm candy at all the Hollywood parties Daddy’s paying for me to get into next summer. I’ll be rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous, and you’ll all be jealous of me.

“But you need to be up there, singing your heart out to your boyfriend; he’s my fave, he totally got my ‘supercalifragalistic’ joke. I’m totally going to be Mary Poppins on Broadway one day, because it’s like the line ‘a spoonful of sugar’ was made for me. Besides, you’re not nearly as talented as me anyway,” she says, and Blaine just splutters, because he has no clue what he’s even supposed to say to that.

Instead, he just waits for her to mumble something about being able to get away with it because she has Aspergers, and when she doesn’t, instead backing away from him to admire the pictures spread around his room, and Blaine realises how long it’s been since Sugar’s used that as an excuse.

“I don’t know, I like to think I do a pretty mean rendition of Katy Perry,” Blaine says, his smile bright and teasing as he watches her coo over the horse he’s riding in one of his old polo pictures, because _of course._ She just wants to fit in; _that’s_ why she’s so enthused by Kurt’s response, and he laughs suddenly, short and sharp, because he’d been like her once, with the Warblers, clinging so eagerly to the role as their lead singer because he’d wanted, so desperately, to be liked and respected. Blaine had been lucky enough to have some kind of musical talent to cling to; Sugar’s left with trying to act like she’s better than everyone else and bribing them with fancy parties and money.  

Given how long it’s been since she made ridiculous excuses for her behaviour, maybe she’s actually starting to feel accepted among the New Directions; Rory and Artie clearly like her, and she’d been one of the Troubletones’ best dancers. It’s either that, or the ridiculous number of hair accessories she wears have finally given her a permanent headache and addled her brain.

Either way, Blaine knows hard it can be to let a façade down, had clung to his for months after meeting Kurt and had then tried the opposite here at McKinley, trying so hard to act like everything was okay with Finn, with Santana, like he didn’t feel like he’d been stomped on. He gets up slowly, picking up Earl and laying him in Blaine’s chair, and moves to stand behind Sugar, who’s still staring around his room.

“I _knew_ I picked someone good to look after Earl,” Sugar says, turning to face him, and he barely has time to be surprised before she’s pulling him into a hug. Blaine pats her back awkwardly, because he’d just been about to ask about singing to Kurt, and pulls away as she adds, “Daddy bought me a pony when I was nine, and he was such a sweetie pie, all the people who worked at the farm used to give me sugar cubes to feed Mr Sprinkles because I was the sweetest girl there. And then one day he just disappeared and –“

Sugar looks like she’s about to cry, so Blaine guides her back to the bed, sitting down beside her. “How about we team up?” he says, the idea coming to him as he talks. “I need to give Kurt a Valentine’s surprise, and you might just be able to help me. It’ll be so fabulous, McKinley won’t know what hit it.”

He runs through it quickly, even lets Sugar pick him out a top hat to wear for the performance. Blaine has to admit, it’s actually a little fun, rifling through his closet and trying out the most outlandish accessories he owns; at one point, Sugar drapes herself in Blaine’s Buckeyes scarf and he’s just about to ask how she feels about their chances in the next big game when she offers him and anyone else who’d like to go tickets for her dad’s corporate box. He’s about to decline, when he thinks about Cooper, and how, no matter what, he’d always had his older brother to stop him from becoming as outwardly desperate for approval as Sugar seems to be.

Besides, Blaine and Sugar are both totally agreed on how dreamy the quarterback is, and he thinks it might actually be fun to spend a little more time together. Sometime in the middle of working out choreography, Sugar had started spinning him around, and it’s the least dizzy he’d felt in weeks.

His friends have been around, even though they’re busy, but it’s nice to see that someone thought about him, even if it was just to look after a dog. Earl’s bouncing around at their feet now, trying to get in on the action, and Sugar just scoops him up and presses him to her cheek, cooing a little. He’s totally _adorable,_ and what Blaine’s parents don’t know won’t hurt them; he’s just got to get that hideous rhinestone collar off first.

Blaine starts to feel tired after a while, though, and gestures to Sugar to have a seat, pulling out the remaining fabric and explaining to her what he’d been doing. “I can’t believe you don’t have a maid to that,” is the first thing she says, and then, “you’re going to look totally gorgeous.” She rolls the last word on her tongue, and he flushes.

“I don’t know –“ he starts, and she just cuts him off, digging through her handbag and thrusting a bag of candy hearts at him.

“ _Sweet, sugar, candyman,_ ” Sugar sings, and okay, maybe there _was_ some truth to the rumours about her talent, but Blaine just takes out one of the hearts and nibbles at it, smiling at her. There’s potential, and singing lessons would look great on his college applications next year, plus New Directions is going to need all the members it can get. “Rory gave me these because he thinks I’m the sweetest thing ever for helping him learn English, but clearly I don’t need them. Everyone wants to kiss me because I’m so talented, it’s like getting a kiss from the Queen.”

Blaine splutters ungainly, but Sugar just bends down and picks up some of the fabric scraps he’d tried so desperately to hide, says, “You need to use velvet, or at least pour some glitter on them. It’s my party, you can’t look like you crawled out of a trash can.”

Earl just barks as though he agrees, and Blaine thinks suddenly of Kurt, who’d make similar comments, and all of his friends from the New Directions, whom he’s lucky to have. He makes a mental note to text Santana, invite her around tomorrow to fill him in on exactly how many times she’s managed to make Bob Marley jokes to the new guy, and wonders what they’ll think about welcoming a new addition to the family.

(He already knows they’re all going to fall for the dog).

  



End file.
